posted on May 1, 2009 at 9:36 pm

kathy and dad again
moving through the stately suburbs
gliding past the lovely gardens of the latter day lords
moving down into second
as we slow down outside the cenotaph
dad switches on his little chrome radio
and tunes in a station
some jazzy vibey thing starts up
what are you doing for the rest of your life?
sings some smoky womans voice
ah listen kids says dad
he whistles the trumpet part as we drive under a humpback bridge
kathy turns around from the front seat
and offers me one of her fruit gums
dad comes to a big intersection n stops
roads lead off everywhere
lights blink on n flicker
eat at joes
doherty bros used cars
dorothy hair and beauty
cons milk bar
we proceed north towards the big smoke
i touch dads neck just below the hairline
oh how i love the way his hair neatly stops
for so many miles
sitting here in the back
have i contemplated this mans head and neck?
i stroke his hair all smoothed down
this is a dream, isnt it?
i suspiciously ask
nobody says anything
the car rushes through the streets with a smooth rolling sound
i cant remember yesterday
i cant remember tomorrow
i feel fate trapping me in its web
inexorably moving in on me
in for the kill
coincidences multliply geometrically
all hunches and whims appear justified
dad n kathy say nothing
we seem to be driving in circles
the circles getting smaller and smaller
until i cant bear the unbearable pressure
it gets tighter and tighter
a white hot spear of pain shoots up my spine
i begin to shake
i think
beauty must be convulsive
the dream is tearing me apart
the dream is perforated
letting in other crazy dreams
i collide with the characters of my life
banger pearson and all the roadcrews
everyone is let loose
anachronistic dismayhem
kathy finally speaks
now are you satisfied steven
marty n ricky drive past laughing
aunty lou does a line of coke at the paradiso
ploog and i at kindergarten in 1960
tom n paul verlaine running away from home
thru kentucky
and the cold kentucky rain
natalie dalton from richmond virginia
shes playing on her front lawn
and clouds swirl through misty cotton
robert lurie pops up in my garage
where baby grande is murdering another hopeless song
boydie and leesy shake their heads
isadora telambi takes off her clothes in a holiday inn
david neil lies on a bed and watches
dutch pierre tiptoes through his two lips
slagger slade from lyneham primary jams with the who
bob clearmountain on location says its a wrap
and the phone rings
in some parallel universe
i have an exhibition of paintings
someone wants to talk to me about it

18 Responses to “night ride”

  1. avatar
    Hellbound Heart | 1 May 2009 at 10:43 pm #

    descending into a dream as i read through today’s writing and then reality steps in…..yeah, that’d be right! don’t you hate reality sometimes?
    love always……

  2. avatar
    davem | 2 May 2009 at 12:02 am #

    Sometimes I think you need to relax just a tad. You chose nearly all the right paths and have changed and influenced so many lives for the better.
    God bless you. I really mean it. I owe you so much. You have no idea how much!

  3. avatar
    Brian | 2 May 2009 at 12:12 am #

    Cobalt Blue

    I thought of Painkiller in the first fifteen seconds but was transported with the guitar instantly. Beautiful, and enticing, an amazing opener. Sounding like a wet summer field with life exploding everywhere. The lyrics are subtle and Steve delivers them like it’s what his throat grew for.

    Classic Church. If those bed-wetters, Coldplay, had this as their opening track with Eno producing, they’d still f*cking blow it ‘cause they’re useless. Here it sounds like essence, and already developed and written 500 years before delivery. The guitar bit towards at the three minute mark comes in tentatively in answered whispers, but then bursts with energy of cosmic proportions, coiled and sublime. Sounds like a glass plectrum springing through a valve, with shards splintering along the edge of each string scrape. Not only does it fill my head with light but it could still have been written in fifty years time.

    Dead Man’s Hand

    I don’t know how to say this, but I think I’ve been there before. On the way to something, sometime, somewhere. When I listen to this I want to put my head back. It reminds me of the eternal cyclic nature of living. God, it sucks me in. A tapestry of guitar clusters with mesmerising lyrics keeping them focused in a blurring. Deeply enticing, and darkly real. The horrors of Iraq somehow form. More cowbell?


    Sublime, and simple in its own complexity. A chance to open the curtains, throw the windows wide and let the sunlight flood in. The whole world compressed into one song. I wonder if when the world was young there was only land, no sea. The world has grown since then and the cracks filled with tears. We’re still melting the ice. The strings melt me.


    This is an incredibly mature song, in all senses. It sounds as though it could have been recorded any time in the last 40 years. Wonderful, and as deeply forlorn as a gale e-blowed through a winter forest. It’s already one of my favourite Church songs ever. This whole album just seems to inhabit its own multi-verse and it is very difficult to consider comparisons.

    Space Saviour

    The Johnny Reggae style guitar intro gives no clue as to waves of pure joy to follow. If Spiritualized were as good as they once promised to be, this would be their greatest song ever. They say Jason Pierce has the dreamiest eyes in pop, Steve has the most piercing in eye popping dreams. An absolute stone cold classic that should be blasting out of every speaker everywhere worldwide. What the fuck are people thinking about? Sexy boots?

    I’m still drifting, more later. Must roll another. Get another slant. I’ll go check the garden.


  4. avatar
    phil in Canbagerra | 2 May 2009 at 1:02 am #

    Dad’s and driving…automobiles in those days seemed to be just bigger, brighter and less …um… sealed up. Driving from Melbourne to Noosa was a BIG deal in an EH station wagon. My dad just kept driving without a complaint..I however was complaing about a) too hot b) being too hungry c) wanting a mars bar …NOW d) how annoying my brother was by just sitting there!

    Last night had same old dream of watching passenger planes fall from the sky. And me just going around offering cups of tea to the survivors.

    On Angel Street has had me in tears now about 8 times….good job SK!

    Dr. Phil

  5. avatar
    Anonymous | 2 May 2009 at 2:21 am #

    Why does the choice have to be made between art and life?
    Without art
    I am a lame target
    (again) for those anthropomorphic vultures
    They think sensitivity
    is like swine flu
    And immunise themselves by practising cruelty and discrimination
    religiously every morning
    praying (mantis) to the god of car crashes
    Lucky I dont drive
    It doesnt matter
    They have my soul in a bottle of formaldehyde, next to the bottle of methadone,
    locked in the DD cupboard of
    ward 6A.
    It is a dangerous drug
    my soul
    I know they sip and slurp at the bottle
    as I work.
    Lamely I am asking for the right to work. And some regular symmetry
    in the mean time.
    They want to hold us in the past, and embellish it to look like an episode of underbelly
    Its a beautiful day in Adelaide.

  6. avatar
    craig1.618 | 2 May 2009 at 3:26 am #

    a beautiful blog

    and beautiful comments

  7. avatar
    Anonymous | 2 May 2009 at 6:33 am #

    Why does the choice have to be made between dream and reality? Cease to sing your song (and leave the throne before getting drunk) and get trapped in your fate. Your fate isn’t good or evil, it’s just yours and hopefully, a choice. Your greatest companions can’t say anything. When you’re in your way to crush a revolution all your favourite voices get mute. The memories too. The projections too. The screen also is put to sleep just like the mirror. And the “real people” are characters cause the dream took over. While a biography, just a version of the story, is being released, you release yourself from your story until this point. But there’s not a hopeless song murdering the dream, it’s just a premium characters holiday (inn) so you can become your self. What’s real and what’s dreamt become close and entwined when you WERE mine. But this is just a version of a version of your story. I am not telling mine. Until next point.

  8. avatar
    Anonymous | 2 May 2009 at 9:15 am #

    the killer in you is the killer in me!
    regards from Germany

  9. avatar
    crucified in space | 2 May 2009 at 9:22 am #

    or not at all

  10. avatar
    princey | 2 May 2009 at 10:48 am #

    Hi sk, another mention of David Neil, is there an album?….is he human or machine?
    Have a lovely nite,
    love amanda

  11. avatar
    Anonymous | 2 May 2009 at 3:22 pm #

    new album is.

  12. avatar
    Thomas Thomsen, Denmark | 2 May 2009 at 4:29 pm #

    Has any of you Church fiends out there found the less positive review that Steve mentioned in his blog yesterday?

  13. avatar
    knot | 2 May 2009 at 6:22 pm #

    So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said–
    I’m just not the same since there’s rain in my head.

    hello from yuor freckled sister

  14. avatar
    Anonymous | 2 May 2009 at 6:42 pm #

    for some reason you made me think of
    Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’

    Were these new works and will they be for sale?

    I’d love to see you do something botanical or some more natural/animal (birds maybe?)type pieces


  15. avatar
    Brien Comerford | 2 May 2009 at 7:13 pm #

    Some of SK’s dream, memory and reality blogs are reminiscent of The French surrealists especially Gerard De Nerval who wrote the mystical ” Aurelia”.

    Nice review by Brian with an A.

  16. avatar
    eek | 2 May 2009 at 8:45 pm #

    and the phone rings
    in some parallel universe
    i have an exhibition of paintings
    someone wants to talk to me about it
    It was a very nice talk too! Everyone enjoyed it very much.

    Great reception…and a great exhibition too. It continues through May at the 15 Minutes Galley Go check it out!

  17. avatar
    jaime r... | 2 May 2009 at 9:46 pm #

    Tell em ” Large Marge sent ya”… bwahhhhaha

  18. avatar
    EDD | 2 May 2009 at 9:59 pm #

    When I sits…I sits loose…When I worries…I just faaalls asleep.

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.